The First Day.....Of The Rest Of My Life

There I was, walking my mom to the school bus — yes, you heard right, I was walking her to the bus. You see, I was her "baby." Me, the toughest, strongest, and most socially balanced child she has. Y'all liked that one, didn't you?

Well, it had come my time — time to take that long journey to the end of the driveway to get on that bus for my first day of school. A.T. Allen Elementary, first grade, and my first and favorite teacher, Mrs. Phillips. She was the best. She was one of those who remembered every student's name. When my kids were ten years old, we ran into her in the grocery store and she hugged me, told them she was my first grade teacher, and even told them the year. She was one of the greatest.

But that's not what I remembered most about my first day.

Like I said, I'm a talker, so most of the students were already in the classroom by the time I got there, socializing. But as soon as I walked into the room... I saw the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life — and I had lived a whole six years. I walked in and she turned and smiled, and I think she waved. That was it. I was done.

Now, my mom remembered it evidently better than I did, because later in life when we — this angel and I — actually started dating, my mom told her how I came home that day raving about my new girlfriend at school. All I could say was, "Mom, she has the most bluest eyes I have ever seen." I don't remember saying that, but she did, and I couldn't get them out of my mind.

Her name was Nikki. We were sweethearts in the first grade, at least for a while. We were actually the first grade's lead characters in the school's Christmas play — a modern day take on the birth of Jesus, about a couple at Christmas time trying to find a place to stay for the night. Our only line was: "We came from so far away, and we're very tired, don't you have room for us?" Wow — I remembered that fifty-four years later.

We were sweethearts off and on through first and second grade, then Dad built our new house and I changed schools. I started over at Bethel Elementary and fit right in. Bethel is the red-headed stepchild of Cabarrus County — we were always the last to get anything — but we were farm kids and we were tough. I had a lot of friends there, but I always wondered about Nikki.

Oh, Squirrel — let me tell you something the kids and even parents wouldn't believe about my sixth grade. My sixth grade teacher was a man called Mr. Burch. I don't know much about his home life, but he was another of my favorites. Ever since I could remember, I carried an Old Timer single blade pocket knife — guess who gave it to me? Yep, Grandpa Little. I have always loved vegetables, and that knife was for nothing but cutting vegetables, period.

Now this day and time, if a student takes even a fingernail file they'll be suspended. But leaving the cafeteria at Bethel, they had a big bowl full of apples next to the door, and every day Mr. Burch took one back to class. Other boys had knives too, but they whittled, carved, and picked their fingernails with them. Mr. Burch knew I only used mine for food.

Every day, about an hour after we were back from lunch, Mr. Burch would say, "Robert, may I borrow your knife?" I'd give it to him, he'd open it and peel his apple, cut it into slices, go to the sink, wash it off, close it, and lay it on the corner of my desk. Can you believe that?

I'll tell you something else — as I sit here writing this, that knife is in my right jeans pocket.

Now, back to the main story. The county came up with an idea to bring the lower elementary students to a middle school downtown Concord for seventh and eighth grade. I joined the band, and the first day of practice that summer before seventh grade, they called the roll. When they called my name, two girls stood up and looked to the back of the room to find me. It was Nikki and her best friend Jennifer.

Yes, we went steady — that's what they called it back then — in seventh and eighth grade, off and on. Truth be known, I think in seventh grade we all went steady for a week with everybody. After that, Nikki and I were just really good friends. I hit my growth spurt earlier than most; by the end of ninth grade I was six feet tall and around 185 pounds. Bodyguard material. That's what I became.

Then came the move to South Carolina for Dad's job. We stayed in touch. When I came home, I always checked in on her and Jennifer. One time I came home and called her house to talk — we were just friends, she was dating someone else. Her mom said she wasn't there, so I called Jennifer, just to see how everyone was doing. I asked how Nikki and her boyfriend were doing, and Jennifer said they hadn't been together for months. Then she said, "Nikki is actually here."

So I said, "Let me talk to Nikki."

I asked her if she wanted to go get some pizza — "as friends" — and we did.

We've been together ever since.

We've been married for forty years. It's been wonderful, and I'm sure we'll talk more about the later years. I told you the first thing I noticed and fell for was those beautiful blue eyes. They still are as bright and blue as ever — but I have seen some just as blue, maybe bluer. On an evening in March 1996, she gave me the greatest gift she could ever give. She had a set of triplets — two boys and a girl — and that little girl has her mother's eyes.

God is good.

Oh, and guess what — the grandson who gave me the name Big PaPaw? He is my daughter's son. And you guessed it... those blue eyes.

I told you God is good.

Thanks for reading, and remember — "Do yourself a favor and take someone to church Sunday." Thanks again, and God Bless.

— Big PaPaw